


And I Heard as it Were the Noise of Thunder

by brittyelaine



Series: The Heart Brings You Back [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Biblical Characters - Freeform, Canon Divergent, Crisis of Faith, First Kiss, God confrontations, God v. Amara, M/M, Pining, Season 11, Season 11 Speculation, everyone ships it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 03:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6888739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittyelaine/pseuds/brittyelaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was on that unremarkable Tuesday afternoon that history was made, allowing there to be a Tuesday night, and a Wednesday morning, and so on, forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a great deal of this written prior to "Don't Call Me Shurley" and "All in the Family," and therefore diverges from the characterization of Sam and Dean's reactions to Chuck. The original characters introduced came from my research of the Book of Enoch. The title is a line from Revelation.
> 
> Somewhere along the way, this evolved into a lead-in for an extremely long, multi-chapter story I started months ago, but lost momentum for. Stay tuned after this fic for what I believe will be the final installment in this series.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](/http://brittywritesstuff.tumblr.com/)

It was a day not unlike all those before it: remarkable in its overwhelming lack of remarkability - a bright, clear Tuesday afternoon. That morning, people everywhere woke, went to school or work. They lived their unremarkable lives, blissfully ignorant and unaware of how close their hackneyed routines came to being obliterated; how close their boring, unremarkable lives came to ceasing; being wiped from existence. They remained, and always would, unaware of how God with a capital G, a small platoon of angels, some demons, the King of Hell, a witch, and two boys from Kansas saved all of creation.

And on that unremarkable Tuesday afternoon, several billion years from the beginning of everything, God, those Angels, those demons, that King, that witch, and those troubled Kansas boys converged on a battlefield that, by all accounts, seemed to merely be the beleaguered remains of a long-abandoned warehouse. It was on that unremarkable Tuesday afternoon that history was made, allowing there to be a Tuesday night, and a Wednesday morning, and so on, forever.

Three Days Earlier

The library was quiet, the slow, steady hum of the central air and the heavy fall of his feet against the marble as he paced served as the soundtrack to Sam's worry. He lowered his phone, ending what seemed like the thousandth unanswered call to Dean. When he turned to pace in the opposite direction, he found himself face-to-face with Dean and--

"Chuck? What the hell are you doing here? Dean, what the hell? Where have you been? I've been calling you for hours! I leave you alone once, and you just take off?"

"Save it, Sammy. Not in the mood." He moved past Sam to drop into a chair, running a hand over his face. Despite Chuck somehow mojoing him sober, Dean still felt like shit and his head was still pounding.

"I don't care, Dean. What the hell is going on?"

Chuck stood awkwardly, looking between the brothers, his hands hidden in the pockets of his coat. He laughed softly. "I think 'hell' might be the wrong word."

Sam, in no mood for humor, shook his head, his brow creased in anger and confusion.  
"What?" He was fed up, exasperated. He was tired of being on the treadmill of this failing fight against Amara. He was tired of trying to keep Dean afloat in his grief over Cas. He was tired. 

Taking the hint, Chuck sighed. "Okay, uh, maybe a visual aid would help?" From his pocket, he pulled an amulet. Dean's amulet. The very one Sam had gifted him when they were kids. It was glowing - an ethereal blue and white that reminded Sam of an angel's grace.  
Sam looked to Dean who sat staring at his hands, his jaw set tight. Turning his wide-eyed attention back to Chuck, he shook his head. "What is this?"

"Sam," Chuck sighed, reaching out to press the amulet into Sam's hand. "C'mon. You know what this is." He paused, offering a general smile. "Who I am."

Breathing suddenly became a challenge for Sam. He backed away, shaking his head. "No. This is insane. Y-y-you really think you're God with a capital G?" Looking at Dean, he threw out his hands. "Dean, you can't seriously be buying this crap?"

Dean remained silent, staring at his hands. Sam didn't notice the tears standing his cheeks. Sam didn't know Dean had already spent hours having this out with Chuck; spent hours lashing out in fear, disconsolateness, and anger.

"You son of a bitch," Sam growled. It was a point of anger and betrayal Dean had only witnessed in his brother a handful of times. "I prayed to you. Every day. We have asked for your help. For something. Anything! Where the hell have you been?" He stepped back, his hazel eyes shining with tears. "We," he breathed, failing to hold the tears back, "have fought and sacrificed everything while you've sat back and watched. Why?"

Sighing, Chuck fidgeted with his shirt and jacket. "I could come up with a million excuses, Sam, but none of them would do you any justice. None of them would bring you any peace of mind. Not really. I am sorry you've suffered. Truly, I am. I like you guys." He ventured a quick glance at Dean. "I've always liked you guys." He held up his hands as if to surrender. "I'm here to help now. I know you're doing your best to right what's happened, but I'm here to offer my help." 

They stared silently at one another for a long while. Sam was at war with himself. The petulant half of him wanted nothing more than to rail against Chuck - God - for all the wrongs done to him in life: Azazel. His parents. Jess. Dean. Lucifer. God deserved every once of bitter hatred and anger that had been boiling and eating away at him for thirty-three long, tumultuous years.

The calm, rational half of him; the half that got him through Stanford and the LSAT; the half that pushed him through every investigative performance in his life as a hunter, through endless research and close call, knew one thing: they needed him. The greatest asset in the war that was slowly killing Dean had just walked back into their lives offering help where help was so desperately needed. In spite of himself, Sam knew he had no choice but to accept. Crossing his arms as a last, if childish, stand of defiance, he set his furious gaze on Chuck and nodded. "Fine. What's your plan, then?"

Thankful for the reprieve, Chuck smiled. "Well, for starters, I'm gonna need Gabriel."

Scoffing, Sam settled into the chair beside Dean. "You really haven't been paying attention to much have you? Lucifer offed Gabriel on his last grand farewell tour."

Settling in across the table from the Winchesters, Chuck shook his head. "No, he didn't. Gabriel's alive."

"Leave it to dear old Dad to blow your cover and embarrass you in front of your friends."

Sam leapt to his feet, wide-eyed and fumbling for words. "What? How? You--"

"Oh, c'mon, Sammy," Gabriel taunted, rounding the table as he scrutinized his surroundings. "Have a little more faith. Nice digs, by the way." He stopped beside Sam, grinning up at the younger Winchester. "Miss me?" He quirked an eyebrow before glancing at Dean, the mischief falling away. "I heard about Castiel. I'm sorry, Dean. I know--"

"Not now," Dean snapped. "I'm not doin' this. Can we just work, please?"

They all nodded and looked on, forlorn, as Dean wiped the tears from his face.

"Well," Chuck began, clearing his throat, "we need to sound the call, Gabriel."  
Gabriel, as calm and serious as Sam had ever seen him, nodded.

"Wait a minute. 'Sound the call'?" Sam held up his hands, looking from Chuck to Gabriel and back. "As in the horn of Gabirel? I thought that was a myth?"

"Eh, it's not exactly a horn," Gabriel offered, shrugging his shoulders.

Chuck leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. "There are a lot of things the Bible got wrong. The writers took some liberties or interpreted details incorrectly. It's all a little muddled. A bit like playing telephone, y'know? You send out a message, and by the end of the line, it's a weird, bastardized version of itself.

"But, uh, no. Not a horn. The writers were super fond of trumpets, for some reason. No, uh, actually it's more, like... A specialized, honed-in distress call. Sends out a message over the, uh, what'd you guys call it? Angel radio? Yeah. To the higher ranks. Well, whoever's left, anyway."

Dean and Sam stared at Gabriel before, much to everyone's surprise, Dean leaned forward to speak. "Well, wouldn't that kind of tip off Lucifer? He's a friggin' archangel."

Gabriel shook his head. "Not if I fine tune it. Luci don't need to know Daddy's home.

With a heavy sigh, Dean rolled his eyes and settled back in his chair. "Whatever. Do what you need. But then what? Huh, Chuck? You announce your big return, and then what? You don't think the angels are gonna be pissed off after everything that happened and you just sat by and watched? You think they'll just come running and do your bidding?"

Beyond the bunker walls, somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. "Yes." When Chuck spoke, his voice was low and languid. It sent a chill down Dean's spine. "Because they were created to do so." He took a breath, his eyes fixed on Dean. "Now I understand your anger. And I understand your bitterness. But now is not the time, Dean." Another clap of thunder rolled closer. "Do you want to save Castiel?"

Swallowing against a dry throat, Dean nodded silently. 

"Then let's get to work." Chuck paused, allowing his gaze to falter briefly. "I never wanted this for Castiel. You weren't meant to... He was supposed to..." Suddenly, as quickly as it had disappeared, the Chuck mask was back in place. "Never mind. Gabe, do your thing. We're gonna need all the help we can get!" He stood without warning and left the room, leaving Sam and Dean stunned and Gabriel standing quietly in the corner, his eyes closed and his hands turned upward. 

Chuck returned a moment later, choking down on the leftover lo mein Sam had saved for lunch the following day. He reminded himself to pick his battles, and left the subject alone. They wouldn't have had time to hash it out, anyway.

The walls around them shook as loud, commanding thunder boomed overhead. With the intoxicating scent of petrichor, an inexplicable rush of wind blew through the library and the unmistakable rustle of wings displaced the air around them. When the room settled, three men stood in the archway of the library, all clutching shining silver swords to their chests. Swords, Sam and Dean realized, identical to the one Tamiel had used to murder Claire's mother.

The Winchesters leapt to their feet, ready to fight. The three new arrivals took no notice. Their attention was fixed on Gabriel and Chuck. 

The first to speak was the tallest, his dark hair cropped close; his dark skin a pleasing contrast to the cream-colored suit he wore. It was tailored perfectly to his lean frame, flowing smoothly over his muscles as he moved gracefully. "Is it true? Father?" Sam placed the accent as some dialect of French.

Chuck nodded, glancing at Gabriel briefly. "Yeah. Yes. It's true." 

"And is it true the Darkness has been released?"

Again, Chuck affirmed. "Yeah. Also true."

The three exchanged looks before kneeling. They dropped their heads, raising their swords toward the sky "Then you have our swords and our protection of humanity. Whatever may come."

"Okay. Cool. Thanks, guys. Thank you. But please stand. Don't kneel, okay? Totally not necessary. Plus it's super weird."

They stood and watched silently, still clutching their swords.

"Uh, Chuck?" Dean spoke, the strain in his voice evident. "Care to introduce your friends?"

"The Watchers." Gabriel spoke quietly, stepping forward. He glanced at Dean, an uncharacteristic frown etched into his soft features. 

"The _Watchers_?" Sam questioned, incredulous. "As in the Grigori? Cas said they were wiped out. Except for Tamiel. Who _tried to kill us_!"

"The thunder, the cloud, and the earth of God... They weren't wiped out. They fell." Gabriel's pointed gaze fixed upon Dean. "They were the first protectors of humans. But they fell in love with humans in their charge, and chose to remain on earth."

Dean looked away, turning his back and running his hands over his face. Sam could see the ragged breath he threw; knew he was trying to steady himself.

Chuck cleared his throat. "Thank you for coming to help. This is Sam and Dean Winchester. Guys, this is Chazaqiel," he gestured to the angel who had first spoken, "Ramiel," he gestured to the olive-skinned man in the middle, dressed sharply in a dark grey suit. His dark hair was pushed back from his face, his dark eyes shimmering in the low light of the library. "And Araqiel." Chuck gestured to the third man, tall and lithe, dressed in a dark brown suit accented with blue pinstripes that matched the color of his eyes. His shaggy, sandy blonde hair fell forward in his face before he shook it away. Each nodded when introduced before stowing their swords.

Sam made a note to ask an angel - any of them, really - where the hell the blades and swords went when they did that. He couldn't believe he'd known Cas all these years and he never bothered to ask. It was a thought for another time, however. 

"Dean Winchester." Ramiel finally spoke, stepping forward. His voice was pleasant and smooth; neither of the Winchesters could place his accent. "The Righteous Man. We have heard of you. It is you who inspired Castiel to rebel. It is you who showed him what it is to love."

Dean's jaw clenched, fresh tears stinging his eyes. "Yeah, not quite."

"No, it is true. We all know of Castiel. The Angel with too much heart. The Angel who pulled the Righteous Man from Hell, only to fall from Heaven for him." He reached out to lay a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Fear not, Dean Winchester. He will return to you."


	2. Chapter 2

What little sleep Dean got these days was fitful, at best. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Cas. All the times those vibrant blue eyes had gazed at him so lovingly. All the times they sought out his for comfort; for help.

"Dean...."

Dean found himself in a dilapidated warehouse. Smoke and fire raged behind him, but from it, he could feel no heat. Presented before him, Cas was hung on an apparatus, bruised, scarred, and bleeding. "Cas?" His voice waivered. As he stepped forward, his path was blocked by Amara.

"I'll spare your friend, Dean. But only if you come to me, and bring me my brother. You and I will be together. It's inevitable. Be with me, and save Castiel. It's that simple. Come to me, Dean."

Before Dean could speak, Amara reached out to touch his cheek, and he awoke in his bed, sweat-soaked and gasping for air. "Sam!" He shouted, tears mixing with sweat. "Sam!"  
Sam burst through the door, his eyes wide, gun raised, ready for a fight. "Dean? What is it? What's wrong?"

Struggling to catch his breath, Dean ran a hand over his face. "I know where they are. I know where Amara has Cas."

+

It sounded like the beginnings of a bad joke: God, four Angels, and two hunters sat at a table, awaiting the arrival of a demon and a witch. 

"I still don't see why we need Crowley," Dean muttered, eying his clasped hands.

"All hands on deck," Sam said quietly, wrapping his hands around his coffee cup. "He's helped before. So has Rowena. It sucks, and I really wish we didn't need them. Again. But... We need everyone we can get."

Chuck sighed, leaning back in his chair as he finished off the doughnut in his hand. "Sam's right, Dean. Everyone's valuable in this equation."

Running his hands through his hair, Dean leaned his elbows on the table and dropped his head, grumbling to himself. 

Moments later, Sam was ushering Crowley and Rowena down the stairs, through the the war room, and into the library. "Hello, Squirrel... And friends." Crowley's cheekiness fell away when his eyes fell on Chuck. "Bloody hell."

"Crowley." Chuck nodded, standing in greeting.

"Have you brought me here to kill me?" He looked from Sam and Dean. "Really, boys? All these years and you're enlisting God to kill me? I'm both flattered and-"

"Lose the ego, Crowley," Dean snapped. "This ain't about you. This is about the Darkness. We need all hands on deck, and unfortunately," he gestured to Crowley, looking him up and down, "that includes you. So shut it. We have a plan."

"Really, Fergus," Rowena chided in a loud whisper from behind them, rolling her eyes. "Such an exaggerated sense of self-importance. I--"

"You too, Rowena," Dean barked. "Everyone sit down and shut up. We have work to do."

+

The clouds had parted, and the sun shined bright. It was hot, as one would expect an early-June afternoon to be. The Impala was parked behind an abandoned warehouse just over the border of Oklahoma, sitting a few miles outside a town boasting a population of a whopping thirty-one people, and whose only neighbors were tumbleweeds and herds of cattle. If someone wanted to hold hostages inconspicuously, this was prime real estate. It looked to Sam as if the warehouse would crumble if you sneezed a little too zealously. Nevermind the threat of eternal damnation or nothingness; they might get crushed to death before it ever came to that.

He looked to Dean, who sat silent and pensive in the passenger seat. "This is gonna work, Dean. We'll get him back."

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, but didn't look at Sam. His gaze was distant, his eyes glassy. "What if it's too late, Sam? What if I'm..." He didn't let himself finish his thought as he ran his hands over his face. "Where the hell is Crowley?"

"Present and accounted for." Crowley adjusted his coat in the back seat, a smug grin on his face

"And Rowena?"

"I believe the Holy Rollers have dropped the Ginger Whore into position."

Rolling his eyes, Dean silently slid out of the car and slammed the door shut. As he, Sam, and Crowley approached the building, a rustle of wings behind them signified the Angels' arrival.

"Afternoon, fellas," Gabriel greeted them cheerfully.

Dean, not surprisingly, remained silent, while Sam offered a nod and a tight-lipped smile. 

"Hey, guys. Where's Chuck?"

"Right here." Chuck blocked the entrance, a sad smile on his face. "We really ready for this, fellas? It's, uh... It's not gonna be pretty."

"Let's just do this," Dean growled. He was tired of having Amara in his head. He was tired of this constant battle. He was tired of not having Cas by his side. One way or the other, he just wanted it to be over, with every ounce of his being.

Crowley pulled a face. "Touchy, touchy." He tugged on the lapels of his suit jacket. "Easy with the threads, lads. I happen to like this look." He settled in the chair that Chuck had nestled into the corner, and made himself as comfortable as one could in a plastic chair that looked as if it had been designed for a middle-schooler.

Dean took a deep, ragged breath and stepped through the door, fighting the overwhelming urge to vomit. He had to stop, mid-stride, and squeeze his eyes shut when he saw Cas - Lucifer - hanging just as he had seen in his dream, beaten, bloody, bruised, and scarred. "Cas," he whispered. When he opened his eyes, Amara stood before him.

"Dean," she smiled, looking him over. "You came." 

"We had a deal. Let him go."

Amara glanced over her shoulder. "You promised to bring me my brother. Once I--"  
"I'm here, Amara. Let him go."

Eying Dean, Amara waved her hand, and Cas collapsed. Dean rushed to his side. "Finish this now, you dicks!" He screamed, pulling Cas into his lap.

Chuck stepped past Amara, feeling the burning stare of his sister with every move. He snapped his fingers, and a bright white light erupted from Cas. "Your time is up, Lucifer. Time to go back where you belong."

"What's going on?" Amara demanded, her eyes wide. "You betrayed me, Dean!" She turned to her brother. "And you. Yet again. You can't stop me. Not this time."

Somewhere behind them, Dean heard Rowena chanting in Latin. He took the window of opportunity presented with Amara's confusion and dragged Cas away, settling beneath a staircase nestled against the far wall.

Chuck smiled. "That's what you think. And that's where you're wrong. You seek to destroy everything because, I don't know, you seem to think that nothingness is better than life. But you're wrong. You've always been wrong. It's such a shame I had to lock you away to create all of this. You never got to see the wonder of it all: Babies. Music. Art. Movies. Poetry... Falling in love."

Furious, Amara shook her head. In the distance, the noise of thunder could be heard. "There is nothing but pain and suffering here! War. Famine. Anger. There is nothing but horror."

"All that, too, sure," Chuck conceded, nodding his head. "Because you know what? Love is not without pain. Love is pain's most excruciating incarnation. I've had so many doubts over the years, but the longer I've been here, the more I've realized... It's everything. These creations... Humans... Yeah, they've done crappy things. They start wars and blow stuff up. But they have found their way. The stumbled around and learned and evolved and created. And I won't let you destroy it. I won't let you destroy another world. You want nothingness? I can give you nothingness."

Again, Amara shook her head. The sound of thunder loomed closer. "Do you really think your words are going to stop me?"

Grinning, Chuck shook his head. "No, not really. It was a really, really good speech, though, huh? No, no, I knew you'd be stuck in your stubborn ways. It was a great distraction, though!"

Suddenly, Gabriel, Ramiel, Chazaqiel, and Araqiel surrounded them, their eyes burning blue as a swirl of bright, ethereal grace circled Amara. As there had been with their arrival at the bunker, a swirl of wind and that beautiful scent of dust after a thunderstorm blew through the warehouse. An angry cloud of fog rose from Amara's feet as she fixed her icy glare on her brother. "You will regret this!"

From the shadows, Rowena closed her eyes and clapped her hands together. Lightening flashed through the cavernous with room, striking Amara, and the loudest clap of thunder yet sounded overhead. 

"You're not going to win," Amara taunted, her black fog struggling against the invisible binds. "I will destroy everything. And Dean Winchester will be a part of me. He will join me in your downfall. I am the beginning. I will be the ending. I am and will be all that there is."

Chuck made a face. "Too much melodrama."

The binds, as expected, were failing quickly. The angel's were struggling against her power, and Gabriel found himself thrown against an already crumbling pillar. 

"Amara!" Another clap of thunder boomed, rattling the walls as Chuck's features turned dark. "Stop this now!"

"Not until I get my revenge for what you did to me. You don't deserve freedom. I'm doing humanity a favor." She screamed out as lightening struck her once more, but it did little to slow her down.

Behind the shadows of the staircase, Dean held Cas to his chest. "C'mon, Cas. Wake up. Please. I need you, man. You gotta come back to me."

Sam appeared at his side, ducking out of sight and under cover from the celestial and primordial storm raging just meters away. He knelt beside his brother and sighed. "How's Cas?"

Dean raised his weary, watery eyes to Sam and shook his head. "He hasn't moved, Sammy, I--"

"Dean, listen to me. He'll be okay. Everything's gonna be okay. This will work. Everyone's doing their part. We just have to stick to the plan."

"What about Crowley?"

Sam nodded, glancing over his shoulder. "Demons should be making an appearance any minute."

As if on cue, streams of black smoke poured into the warehouse from every opening: windows shattered, some filtered in through pieces of the crumbling walls, some through the vents of the long-out-of-order air system. The ribbons of smoke circled Amara like a cyclone. A band of deep, blood-red smoke followed, wrapping itself around the demon-tornado like a ribbon on a gift.

Chuck took the distraction and hurried to Dean and Sam's sides. "Hey, guys. I'm just gonna need to borrow Castiel real quick." He snapped his fingers, and Cas's eyes flew open. He struggled to sit up, his brow knitted in confusion. "Dean? What's... I don't understand... What's going on?"

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but Chuck cut him off. "So sorry, guys, I know you need to have a moment. I totally get it. But I'm really gonna need you for just a few, Castiel." Chuck stood, pulling the Angel to his feet. "Hey. Don't really have a whole lot of time to explain, so..." With a click of his tongue and the snap of his fingers, Cas's eyes lit up - both literally and figuratively - as understanding washed over him. "It's almost time. Come on."

Cas glanced at Dean briefly before following Chuck to the circle of Angels, still struggling to hold the power of the bomb about to go nuclear. Movement in the edge of his periphery caught his attention. He and Chuck nodded in greeting to Billie and the three Reapers who followed.

Sam and Dean ventured from their hiding place to watch, their eyes wide with fear and wonder. 

When Chuck nodded to Billie, the four Reapers raised their hands to the sky, their eyes cloed. It reminded the Winchesters of the mannerisms of the humans who prayed to God in churches; who reached out to feel his presence; as if a hand toward the Heavens would bring him closer to them. 

"You were right about one thing, Amara," Chuck said as the demons released her, the smoke retreating. "You were the beginning. But even though endings are a bitch, humans are gonna get to write their own. You? Not so much. Writing 101: every story has to have a villain, but in the end, the hero always saves the day." He reached out his right hand to touch Cas's shoulder, and instantly Cas's breathtaking grace radiated from him. His eyes shined bright blue, and as the walls shook, his wings - full and mighty as ever - spread out behind him.

As the final syllable of their chant rolled from the Reaper's tongues, a bright hole opened above Amara. It was blinding white, void of sound. It displaced the air around it. Laying eyes on it made Sam and Dean inexplicably uncomfortable. Sick, even.

Cas set his glowing eyes on Amara and stepped forward, laying his hand on her forehead. A hot, white-orange light pierced through her eyes and chest. When she screamed, the walls shook. The pillar she had smashed with Gabriel fell to the ground. The ceiling in one corner collapsed, the concrete smashing to pieces on impact. 

Sam tugged at Dean's sleeve. "We gotta get out of here. This whole place is gonna blow."

"No!" Dean yanked his arm away. "I'm not leaving without Cas!" They dove out of the way of a falling stone, and suddenly his view of Cas was clear and unobstructed. "Son of a bitch," he whispered.

Amara was fighting back. Her fog broke through the grace to circle Araqiel and consume him, the echo of his screams drowned in Amara's. 

"She's gonna kill him. She's gonna kill Cas!" 

Sam grabbed hold of Dean before he had the chance to lunge into any further danger. He dragged his brother toward the door, trying to avoid falling stones as they went. The doorway crumbled when they reached it. Looking around frantically, Sam spotted Rowena huddled behind a disintegrating half-wall, clutching her spell book to her chest. Dragging Dean toward her, they threw themselves to the ground beside her. "Are you hurt?" Sam asked, screaming to achieve even a modicum of audibility above the storm and the screams.

Rowena shook her head vigorously, daring to peek back at the catastrophe. "I think there's another exit through that hallway there. Though by the looks of it, laddies, I'm not so sure our chances are much better."

Dean ripped his arm out of Sam's grasp and stumbled over the fallen stones. He couldn't sit back and let Cas die. All of this had came to be because of him. This was all his fault, and he was determined to be the one to finish it. Behind him, he heard the faint shouts of his brother: "Dean, stop! This wasn't the plan! Dean!"

As he approached the circle, he snatched Ramiel's sword from his hand and barreled forward with something akin to a battle cry. He didn't hear the protests, the warnings, everyone shouting his name as he plunged the sword through Amara's heart. Everything went silent. Cas pulled his hand away, staggering backward.

Amara's gaze fell on Dean, her hands slowly reaching out to him. "You... You betrayed me, Dean. You betrayed your destiny. We were meant to be one."

"You can't have me," Dean panted. "I already belong to someone else."

Amara stumbled backward before she melted into her sinister black fog, the sword clattering to the floor. Chuck stepped into the fading circle of grace, and sighed as if this was all a total inconvenience for him. Raising his hands upward, the bright, eerie vacuum that Billie and her Reapers were holding open pulled Amara's fog toward it. The fog swirled and thrashed, fighting every millisecond of the way. Suddenly, there was a blinding light, and ear-piercing ringing, and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

When Dean opened his eyes, he found himself face down on the hood of the Impala, his line of sight accosted by the image of a completely demolished warehouse. All that remained was rubble and smoke. He scrambled to his feet, looking around desperately. "Sam. Sammy!"

"I'm here, Dean. I'm fine." From the ground on the other side of the Impala, Sam pulled himself to his feet. "I'm okay."

Dean's eyes widened as he turned back to the burning ruins. "Cas!" As he made to take a step forward, a hand settled on his shoulder. When he turned, he huffed out a sigh of relief. "Cas," he whispered, pulling the Angel into a tight hug. He buried his face against Cas's neck. "I thought I lost you again."

Cas hesitated only a moment, but finally wrapped his arms around Dean, his grip nearly crushing. "I'm here, Dean."

When Dean finally dared to pull away, he paused briefly before raising a hand to Cas's cheek. "Are you okay? Did Lucifer hurt you?"

Cas looked away. "I'm fine, Dean."

"How did you get out? How did..." He trailed off, glancing at the ruins. 

"God... He sacrificed himself. He saved us one last time before he let Amara pull him into the Empty with her. He said... He told me it needed to be done so that she could see what love and sacrifice was. It was his final gift to humanity."

Dean's hand found its way to the back of Cas's head, the tips of his fingers toying with his hair. "But she's gone. Amara is gone. Lucifer is gone. And you're here. You're okay."

"I'm fine, too, thanks for asking." Dean and Cas stepped apart to see Crowly beside them, brushing dust from his jacket. "Guess my job here's done. As always, boys, it's been a pleasure."

Sam stepped closer, leaning against the car. "What about Rowena? She was right next to me before everything went dark."

Crowley stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Near as I can tell, she took off. Only thinking of herself, of course."

Sam rolled his eyes. As hard as Crowley railed against Rowena, it was time and time again proven that they were certainly cut from the same cloth. "Alright, get out of here before we change our minds about being so generous and not ganking you."

Crowly frowned. "Sensitive, aren't we, Moose? Well, then. Ta." With a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

Sam turned to Cas. "What about the other Angels, Cas? Do you know if anyone made it out?"

With a frown, Cas shook his head. "Chazaqiel and Araqiel... Unfortunately they didn't make it. Ramiel and Gabriel--"

"Are here," Gabriel announced, approaching with a shit-eating grin.

Beside him, Ramiel stood proudly. He smiled at Dean and Cas. "You see, Dean Winchester," he said, "I told you that your angel would return to you."

Cas looked at Dean, seeking an explanation. Dean shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. "We've got a lot to talk about, Cas. Later." He turned to Gabriel. "So, what now? You go back to fucking with with people for kicks?"

Gabriel grinned. "Hells yeah. Someone's gotta do it, Deano, and you know I am the best." He looked to Cas and sighed, pulling him into a hug. "Good to see you, brother." He pulled back, clapping Cas's shoulders. "Be safe." With a wink, he nodded toward Dean, and then he was gone.

Ramiel bid Castiel and the Winchesters goodbye, and with a rustle of wings, he, too, was gone.

"Guess we should head home," Dean announced, reaching out to Sam for the keys.

"Home?" Cas questioned, his brow furrowed.

"Yes, Cas. Home. With us... With me." He met the angel's eyes defiantly before throwing himself in behind Baby's wheel. 

Sam smiled, settling in the back seat, leaving Cas to ride shotgun.

+

The five-hour drive back to Lebanon was a silent one. And Team Free Will's return to the bunker was unceremonious, at best. They weren't met with fanfare or thanks - they never were when it came to saving the day. Instead, they were met with the low hum of machinery in the war room, the steady churning the recycled air through the vents, empty coffee cups and doughnut boxes abandoned on the library tables, cold, shriveled pizza in the kitchen, and piles of laundry begging for their attention in their bedrooms.

"Kinda weird," Sam began as he began to collect the cups. "We find Chuck... We find _God_ , and now he's gone. Like gone gone. Not just... Y'know... He's being a Dick and not answering prayers. He's just never coming back. He's more than dead. I mean, what now?"

Cas pushed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, standing equidistant between the brothers. "I presume things will carry on much in the same way they have for a while. All things considered, Heaven and Hell are reasonably in order. Unless Lucifer--"

"From what we can tell, he didn't do much up there." Sam offered a comforting smile. "I think you're right. Heaven's in pretty decent working shape." He stepped closer to Cas, reaching out to grip his shoulder. "It's really good to have you back, man. We missed you."

With a sad smile, Cas hung his head. "Thank you, Sam." He didn't elaborate. He wasn't sure he wanted to at the moment. He wasn't sure he was ready to discuss anything further than a 'thank you' or 'good to be back.'

Sam glanced at Dean, hovering awkwardly behind them. These last weeks and months had been especially cruel to the elder Winchester. The overwhelming emotion and exhaustion was written all over his face. "You know, I think we're all exhausted. It's been a long day. Been a long couple of months." He huffed out a laugh. "We should get some rest. I'm gonna head to bed. I'll see you guys in the morning."

When he was gone, Cas turned to Dean, taking a moment to look at him - really look at him. Every line, every freckle. It hit him like a back of bricks how much he missed Dean. The real Dean. "Sam was right," he said, pushing those thoughts away. "You look exhausted Dean. Perhaps you should rest."

"Cas, I--"

Cas held up his hand. "There is much to talk about, you're right. But it can wait. For now, you need rest."

Dean looked away for a moment, his jaw clenched. Cas may be right, but all these months spent agonizing over what he needed to say to Cas if he ever got him back... He felt like he was going to explode. "Yeah," he conceded, despite himself. "Yeah, you're right." When he stepped forward to move past the Angel, he moved in closer than necessary, reaching out to let his hand linger on Cas's shoulder. "But you'll stay, right? You'll be here when I wake up?"

Blue eyes met green, and for the first time in, well, far too long, Cas felt himself smile. "Of course, Dean."

Dean hesitated a moment longer before heading off to the barracks. 

+

"Cas!" Dean had no idea how long he'd been asleep when he awoke in a panic, panting wildly, his body coated in seat. He had seen mayhem and destruction, and Amara standing over Cas's lifeless, mutilated body; the outline of charred wings burned into the ground beneath him.

His door opened slowly, and he looked up to see Cas stepping into his room, concern drawing his brow together. "Dean?" He spoke softly as he approached the bed. "Dean, what is it?"

Sitting up, Dean buried his face in his hands, unable to stop the tears. "I thought I lost you." His voice was muffled through his sobs and the barrier of his hands. He felt the bed dip as Cas sat down, and when the angel's hand found his shoulder, Dean leaned into the touch.

"I'm here, Dean. You haven't lost me."

Dean lowered his hands, daring to meet Cas's gaze. "Why'd you do it, Cas? Why'd you say yes?" His voice was a desperate whisper, betraying the cool front he always tried so hard to maintain; that trademark Dean Winchester stoicism.

Looking away, Cas took a deep breath. "I needed to help, Dean. I'm expendable. I needed to be able to help you. To have a purpose. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do."  
Dean reached out to grip Cas's face, forcing the Angel to look at him. "You are _not_ expendable, Cas. We need you. I need you."

"I know... That's why I wanted to help."

"No," Dean cried, a little more forcefully than he'd intended. "You don't get it, do you? Cas," one hand slid behind Cas's head, fingers carding through his hair. The other lingered on his jaw, his thumb brushing over his cheekbone. "I need you. Not your powers. Not your usefulness. You."

Frowning, Cas let his thumb caress the place his handprint was once visible. "Dean, you've never--"

"I know. I know, Cas, and I'm sorry. I was scared. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, okay?" I just know that when you're gone... I'm a fucking disaster. I know you've gone through a mountain of shit with Lucifer, but I want to help you. I want you here. With me. We'll work it out, like we always do." He pulled Cas close, pressing their foreheads together. "Please, Cas," he whispered, "stay with me."

Cas closed his eyes, breathing Dean in, letting his free hand find its way to Dean's waist. "Of course," he murmured, their lips brushing in the softest of kisses. When Dean sighed contently, pressing forward again, Cas smiled against the hunter's lips. "Always."


End file.
